I don't give two screeches in hell for who you are; an'
besides, I reckon you ain't the only ex-convict a-ranging Dakota either
fer the matter o' that. No more does Murphy. We ain't no bloomin'
detectives, an' we ain't buckin' in on no business o' yourn; ye kin
just bet your sweet life on thet."
"Where is Murphy, then? I wish to see the fellow."
"I told you he'd gone. Maybe he didn't git away till this mornin', but
he's gone now all right. What in thunder do ye want o' him? I reckon
I kin tell ye all thet Murphy knows."
For a breathless moment neither spoke, Hampton fingering his gun
nervously, his eyes lingering on that brutal face.
"Slavin," he said at last, his voice hard, metallic, "I 've figured it
out, and I do know you now, you lying brute. You are the fellow who
swore you saw me throw away the gun that did the shooting, and that
afterwards you picked it up."
There was the spirit of murder in his eyes, and the gambler cowered
back before them, trembling like a child.
"I--I only swore to the last part, Captain," he muttered, his voice
scarcely audible. "I--I never said I saw you throw---"
"And I swore," went on Hampton, "that I would kill you on sight.
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